Black's Story
by greenleaf-in-bloom
Summary: Sirius' point of view from the very end of book III to the beginning of IV.


Black's Story: Pary One Prison to the Sky  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. JK Rowling does. I don't own the places either - I only have vague ideas as to where they are. I am making no profit and no infringement is intended.  
  
As Sirius finished his story and Dumbledore stood from his seat, Sirius whispered a quiet, torn apology. "I'm sorry," he said. "I know Remus is too. He feels guilty about never telling you I was an Animagus.are you going to sack him?"  
  
Dumbledore stared for a moment with his light-blue eyes. "No," he said finally. "No."  
  
"Good," Sirius said, and turned his chair to the window. "How soon will the dementors be here?"  
  
"I don't know," the headmaster said. Sirius stared across the grounds, but saw no shadowy shapes. Nothing. Then, "I don't know if I can do anything."  
  
Sirius stood so fast that his chair fell over. He stared, almost incredulous, at Dumbledore.  
  
"You believe me, then?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded quietly. "It makes sense. I will admit I did not believe you at first. I thought Azkaban truly had driven you mad. But this is not just a tail spun out of twelve years. I had always wondered what reason you had to turn, to betray James.I knew how much you cared for each other. Peter.I had never thought.but you must understand that I don't believe there is much that I can do."  
  
"Will you do me a favor?" Sirius asked. "Will you tell Remus and Harry I'm sorry?"  
  
Dumbledore searched Sirius' face quickly and sighed heavily, but did not answer, and Sirius knew that if he would, he would.  
  
"Thank you, Professor," Sirius said quietly. Dumbledore stood motionless, something strange in his eyes. "For believing me. For everything." Dumbledore nodded mutely, and turned to the door. Sirius wondered whether it was the memories that seemed to weigh on the Headmaster or the fact that there was nothing he could do.  
  
Dumbledore opened the door. Fudge was standing there - Sirius couldn't believe the despicable git was the Minister of Magic, even though he had known it in Azkaban - and he gave Sirius a strange look when Sirius said quietly, "Goodbye."  
  
Then the door closed, and he was alone. He stood the chair back up, and stared at his trembling hands. There was a horrible silence for a long time, and he stared at the full moon. It was the same moon that had shone over some of the best days of his life. It was both fitting and unfitting that it would be there to see his destruction.  
  
He wished for a moment that Remus was there, to tell him that he was good, that he had made a difference, that he had been the world to James and nothing was his fault, to curse Peter with him. But he shoved that thought aside. Remus wouldn't be able to do any of that, even if he was currently in human form. He would cry, because Remus had always been the one to cry, even when he wasn't hurting. And Remus would apologize to him for a million tiny faults, and that would be worse.  
  
Then he wished that Harry was there, and he wondered how Harry would act. I'm going to be destroyed, and I don't know my godson. I'm never going to see James. I always wanted to see James, in the world beyond this, if there is such a thing. Will Harry cry? Will he be silent and strong? Will he be impassive? After all, he had barely known me.  
  
But Sirius knew, with an urgent fervor, that Harry cared, and it was some comfort to know that the poor boy knew the truth about his parents. He had seen the thanks and hope and adoration in Harry's eyes when he had hesitantly suggested giving Harry a home. Maybe it was just that the Dursleys had never presented a parent figure, someone like a father. What'll happen to him now? They won't let Remus take him, they didn't before. Maybe he'll live at Hogwarts during the summers. But no, Sirius knew he would return to the Dursleys, and a terrible ache grew inside of him, a horrible sense of unfulfillment. I didn't do what I had to. I didn't kill Peter. Azkaban was better than this fate.  
  
But they know the truth, and maybe.maybe Peter will be caught anyway.  
  
It was sore comfort, but it was some. Through the thick glass he heard a distant howl of mounring and loss. It echoed what he felt. He sat in the chair and stared at the forest that held his friend, his last friend, and wished that he could tell Remus goodbye.  
  
After a while the sadness became too great, and the sharp moonlight drilled holes into his skull, and he looked again to his trembling hands.  
  
Then there was a tap on the glass, and Sirius looked up. A hippogriff beat its huge wings just outside the window, and two shadowy figures stared through the glass at him. Harry, and the girl, Hermione. Sirius felt his jaw drop, and didn't care. Things happened quickly.he scrambled to his feet and fumbled with the window, but his heart sank. It was locked. His hope faded, then leapt as Hermione yelled, "Stand back," and drew out her wand. "Alohomora!"  
  
Sirius took a great, shuddering breath. "How.how.?" He knew he was staring, knew he was shaking, but he didn't care.  
  
"Get on - there's not much time," Harry said, his voice rushed and relieved and worried and - so many things. "You've got to get out of here - the dementors are coming - Macnair's gone to get them." Sirius wanted to say something, tell the boy, the amazing boy that was his godson, how much he meant to him, but he couldn't, and instead put his hands on the windowframe and pushed. His arms were weaker than they had been years ago, in his early adulthood, but he still managed to pull his head and shoulders out, and soon he had flung himself onto the huge beast's back behind the girl and was breathing fast. It was lucky he was so thin, or he wouldn't have fit.  
  
"Come on, Buckbeak, up!" Harry said quickly, shaking the cord and glancing back to make sure Hermione and Sirius were all right and both seated. "Up to the tower, come on!"  
  
Buckbeak soared up, and when they reached the top of the West Tower Harry and Hermione slid off. Harry handed him Buckbeak's rope and gasped, "Sirius, you'd better go, quick. They'll reach Flitwick's office any moment, they'll find out you're gone."  
  
Buckbeak pranced uncertainly and tossed his magnificent head.  
  
"What happened to the other boy? Ron?" Sirius wished his voice was clearer, but he knew it came out raspy and disused.  
  
"He's going to be okay. He's still out of it, but Madam Pomfrey says she'll be able to make him better. Quick - go." Sirius saw the worried, anxious gleam in his James' son's eyes, in Lily's eyes, and couldn't look away.  
  
"How can I ever thank -"  
  
"GO!" Harry yelled it at the same time as Hermione.  
  
He knew he had to do as they said. He turned Buckbeak to face the moon, and without looking at Harry for fear he wouldn't be able to go, he said what came to his mind. "We'll see each other again." His voice was clearer now, and he was glad of it. "You are." He paused, unsure how Harry would take this, but said it anyway. ".truly your father's son, Harry." He squeezed his heels, and Harry and Hermione jumped back as Buckbeak beat his enormous wings and carried Sirius into the free sky. He glanced back at the Tower, the forest now beneath him, and saw Harry standing still and gazing at him. He wondered when he would see the wonderful boy again.  
  
He sighed, and turned back to the open sky and his freedom.  
  
Black's Story: Part Two Over the Oceans  
  
Disclaimer: Much as I am opposed to slavery, JK Rowling owns all the characters. She is in ownership of all the places too. I am making no profit, and if you sue me you are a big poncy git. And I will hex you into twelve large pieces. Then the prosecution will be various limbs, the left side of your face will be in charge. So Sod Off.  
  
Sirius squinted, trying to see past the sun's reflection in the water. Buckbeak's wings beat tiredly, but there was nowhere to rest. The dark- haired man trusted the hippogriff now; he had been uncertain about its reliability at first, but it had been his only companion for four days, four long, lonely, cold, hungry days, and Sirius no longer needed to bow before mounting.  
  
He missed human companionship. Even the few short hours with people to talk to and tell the truth, truth that had been secret for years, had made him long for more. He wanted to owl Harry and his friends, but where would he find an owl? No, he would wait until he could give some better news and tell that he was safe, or safer, or safe enough.just to say that he was on his way would be unsettling to them, and the last thing he wanted was to upset Harry.  
  
Even on long, frozen days on the grounds there had been Crookshanks. The cat had always managed to come out, and although their communication was basic and like a child's uncertain, plain talk, it had been something. He hadn't been able to tell Crookshanks anything, just proclaim what he needed, and the cat was loyal. They had become as much friends as a cat and a man who was a dog could be.  
  
Buckbeak trusted Sirius, and Sirius Buckbeak, but it was perception, not communication. Sirius could talk, and pretend that Buckbeak was listening, but.maybe he had gone mad in prison, a bit.  
  
Of all the lonelinesses he had experienced, none of them held a candle to this. He was alone save a hippogriff over an sea. He hadn't seen land for two days. His face was hollow, his misery not in his eyes - nothing but darkness was - but instead in his entire body. He slumped in his seat on the hippogriff, his mouth sober, his face crumpled. But the thing that trumpeted despair was the fact that there was nothing here - nothing - to distract him from the terrible haunting memories.  
  
He hadn't slept for almost four days. He had rested, his head on Buckbeak's enormous back, but sleep was impossible. The wings beat up and down, the muscles tensing and shivering. The animal obviously had a magical regeneration system. There was no way that anything could fly for two days, almost nonstop, without magic. Especially carrying a passenger.  
  
They had stopped many times to rest until they started going over the sea, but Sirius hadn't been able to sleep then, too afraid of being found.  
  
Late that night, when the waning moon had appeared, they landed on the coast of what he later learned was the southern corner of Morocco. It was sparsely inhabited, and mainly covered in short-grass plains. The silence was deafening. Sirius found a shack that had long ago fallen into disrepair. Cobwebs trailed across the bare parts of his skin where the robes were torn, and it was obvious no one had been there for a very long time.  
  
Buckbeak didn't fit in, but for the moment, Sirius didn't care who saw. He collapsed into a heap on the dirt ground and slept.  
  
He woke the next afternoon. It was hot and dry. Sirius' head ached fiercely, and he licked dry lips. His stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten for two days, and the last thing he had consumed was two rats. He nearly retched just from the memory.  
  
Buckbeak was outside the hut, lying on the grass. The creature blinked lazily at him. Rightfully, too, Sirius reminded himself. If he thought he was tired, Buckbeak must be exhausted nearly to death. The amazing creature had carried him from near Scotland to Africa.  
  
He wondered where he could find some food. Then he could deal with everything else.  
  
He finished his search of the area and decided after Buckbeak was refreshed they would have to go farther inland. There was nothing here to eat. It was savannah; dry land of short grass. No wonder the shack had been abandoned. What would it be used for?  
  
He sat down next to the hippogriff, who made a low sound of recognition and acceptance, but made no move to get up. He wondered suddenly what hippogriffs ate, and how often, and wished he had paid more attention to Professor Kettleburn in Care of Magical Creatures.  
  
He soared again, higher this time, looking ahead to avoid farms and homes and villages. The grass was longer and drier, but there were plants, and some farms had animals. A few eggs, perhaps.some vegetables.maybe a chicken or something for Buckbeak.I don't think I'll feel too guilty. It may be selfish, but the world's ignorance took twelve years of my godson's life, and my life, away from me. I can take a few things from the ignorant world.  
  
He did feel guilty, though, because he was reminded that these people were innocent, too. they hadn't done anything to him personally.  
  
But he still took the food, because he was hungry. It was not much. It was enough to sustain him, to keep him alive that much longer. On the prairie that night he managed to make a small fire, but all it did was keep his hands warm. There was no way to cook the eggs. He ate them raw and didn't care. It was better than what he was used to.  
  
Resignedly he sighed and stared at the stars. He recognized Sirius, the dog star, and chuckled a bit, remembering how James had teased him to no end about it in Astronomy when the professor called on them to find Sirius in the sky. "Always said you had your head in the clouds," Peter had added, and they had all laughed together.  
  
What had gone wrong? What had made Peter hate James and Lily so much? What had happened? Sirius had laughed when James said Dumbledore thought that one of their close friends was the spy. He had laughed. He had thought that they were inseperable, like brothers, and his friendship with James above all. How could anyone have believed the lie? Why couldn't anyone see through it?  
  
But he did remember Dumbledore had said it had been hard to believe. Peter.it was hard to imagine what had gone through other people's heads, because from the instant he had arrived at Godric's Hollow he had known. No one else had, except Peter and his 'friends'.  
  
If he had gone back in time and told his sixteen-year-old self 'the truth', he would have laughed in his face.  
  
He wondered if Peter would have laughed. And if he would have, if he had been laughing at or with the younger Sirius.  
Black's Story, Part III Owl Post  
  
Dear Padfoot,  
  
First, Harry and Ron and Hermione are all fine and wondering about you, I'm sure. I haven't seen it personally, because I resigned my position.  
  
Snape told the students the morning after you left that I was a werewolf. 'Accidentally', of course. Parents wouldn't want me teaching any longer, so I'm back home now. I know how they feel, I suppose. I could have bitten any of the three of them the other night.  
  
Also, I can help you out as long as I'm away from Hogwarts. Everything fits now, but thirteen years had me convinced, and it's hard to believe anything now. It's good to know that you are innocent now. Knowing you were in Azkaban, even when I hated you - I'm sorry, but it's the same way you hate Peter - was painful. Even thinking that you had betrayed Lily and James and Peter, even knowing you had destroyed us all, I still couldn't let go of everything you did for me and James and Peter.  
  
And now, even now, I can't completely hate Peter.  
  
I know I should.but I can't. He helped me and I know he cared - I wish I knew when he turned. Even when he couldn't come to see us all, I thought that he loved us.and James and Lily and Harry. I thought that all of us would die for each other. He always seemed to care so much, especially for Harry. He would come in and immediately ask to see Harry.  
  
I hope you're well - if you need any help you can always owl me and tell me where you are.I can try to Apperate a few times and find you.  
  
I can't write more, I have to do some things.  
  
If you need ANYTHING just owl me.  
  
Goodbye, and good luck -  
  
Moony  
  
Sirius smiled and folded the letter. He'd have to find a quill and ink, or something - but it was good to know that he still had a friend, and it was definitely good to hear from Remus. When the owl had fluttered to him, he had half-expected it to be from Harry.maybe Harry didn't have an owl. Maybe he didn't like using school owls.  
  
He'd have to remember to ask.  
  
Then he sighed. It had been six days since he'd stolen the eggs, and since then he'd managed to nick some more food. Buckbeak had been able to catch some food for himself - some sort of rabbit - and they had flown further inland to a long-grass plain and more trees than he had seen in more than a week. South of where he was - he had scoped out the whole area from Buckbeak's back - was a tropical sort of area. He wondered where he was going to find an owl.  
  
Now he lay back on the long grass in silence, staring up at the deep-blue, cloudless sky, and wondered where Peter was now, and what he was doing. Was he looking for Voldemort? If so, what would the evil bastard do to him? Half of him hoped Voldemort would kill him, but the other half wanted to do it personally. In Albania, supposedly.  
  
This train of thought was going nowhere, so he thought about the Shreiking Shack, and Harry. He wondered if Harry felt the same blind hatred for Pettigrew that he had for him, and remembered Harry leaping up and throwing himself between him and Lupin, and Peter. But he still hated Peter. He had said so, and Sirius had seen the fervant hatred in his eyes. No thirteen-year-old should be able to hate like that. He had been doing it because.because he didn't think James would want them to become killers.just for him.  
  
The boy had never known his father, but he certainly seemed to, and he knew James' morals even when Sirius and Remus had forgotten them or tossed them aside. Sirius felt a half-surge of guilt for wanting to kill Pettigrew without asking if it was what James wanted done, what Harry wanted.and Sirius knew somehow that it wasn't only James that didn't want the two of them to become killers. Now Harry agreed with killing Peter.and Sirius wondered if James would, too.  
  
He also felt guilty about scaring Harry after he had escaped. He realized he still didn't know what Harry had been doing that night - he seemed to be running away. But why? The Dursleys - did they abuse him? Starve him? Work him? Insult him? Sirius felt a surge of anger. One of those, at least, surely.he would have to turn them into something nasty once he got a new wand. Transfiguration, after all, was one of his high points, and had been James' - but then, maybe things had changed. He hadn't done any Transfiguration with a wand in thirteen years. And there had been so many things he had wanted to tell Harry that night. For almost half an hour, he had thought and hoped that at last he would be able to know his godson. He loved the boy already - he could clearly see James in his words and actions as well as his face. 'Your father would have done the same for me' - he had been pretty stupid. He should maybe have just told the truth straight out. He had made Harry angry and hateful.  
  
He'd forgotten to mention the Firebolt - he had to be wondering who had sent it - and - He would clearly have to owl Harry.  
  
He closed his eyes and lay there in silence for a long time, until another owl landed on his stomach.  
  
He blinked and grinned. It was another Post Owl, and carrying not only a note but parchment, ink and quill - it had simply taken it a bit longer because it was carrying more.  
  
Padfoot  
  
Thought these might be useful.  
  
Moony  
  
He sat down and wrote three letters. Then he went in search of another owl.  
  
Black's Story Part Four Letters from Privet Drive  
  
Dear Sirius,  
  
Thanks for the letter and the note - I got them on the train. Ron says thank you very much for the owl too. We're all fine - but Hermione was gloating all the way to King's Cross about the Firebolt, she thought it was from you from the beginning. THANK YOU for it - it's amazing and it won us the Quiddich Cup for the first time since Charlie Weasley (Ron's older brother) was Seeker.  
  
I'm doing surprisingly well here on Privet Drive - I told my aunt and uncle and cousin that I had an escaped convict for a godfather, and, well, sort of forgot to mention that you were innocent. So I've got all my school things in my room for a change now and all I have to do to make Uncle Vernon loosen up is to mention I'm writing a letter to you. Quite funny, really.  
  
Dudley's on a diet now - his private school insisted that he get down to a size of knickerbockers they had in store. He keeps trying to get hamburgers and candy bars and soda, but Aunt Petunia is putting her foot down. It's not a sight I've seen before, Dudley not getting his way.  
  
Well, I'd better go - if I tell you everything that's going on, then I won't have anything to write about next time I threaten Uncle Vernon with you.  
  
Hope you don't mind about me doing that - tell me if you do.  
  
I'm glad you're okay. Take care of Buckbeak - Hagrid really loves him.  
  
~Harry  
  
Sirius grinned. It certainly sounded like Harry was having a better time than he had last year, by all accounts.  
  
He pulled out his stash of parchment and considered what was the best way to send Harry back a letter without an owl. As he was writing, he got an idea from Buckbeak, who was staring disapprovingly at the large parakeet flying overhead.  
  
He read his response once more before trying to find a way to catch a tropical bird.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I'm glad to hear you're in a better situation than in previous years. Remember to stay on your guard, but have as much fun as you can.  
  
I'm pleased to hear the success of the Firebolt. I had hoped I'd be able to help with the losing streak, but from what I've seen and heard, you'd have won the Cup without the help of a newer broom. You're an amazing flyer.  
  
I certainly don't mind you scaring the daylights out of your aunt and uncle and Dudley using me. However I can help, I'd be glad to. Tell them that I especially like bats and squirrels when it comes to Transfiguration. Might help out a tad bit.  
  
You might want to see if Petunia remembers me, too. I met her once, when Remus and James and I were helping your mother move out. Then again, maybe she won't.  
  
I've been trying to decide whether I should ask what you were doing running away in the middle of the night when you thought a mysterious murderer was on your trail. Do try to be less careless in the future. Peter is still out there, although I expect his efforts will be in trying to find Voldemort. Not that this is something to put any of us more at ease.  
  
For now, however, I think you are relatively safe.  
  
I'll look after Beaky, all right. He's an intelligent hippogriff, and very helpful.  
  
Sirius  
  
Sirius glanced at the empty sky again. It was an odd habit. He was in Africa, Harry and Hedwig - he thought that was her name - in Europe. Still, he wished very badly that they would hurry up delivering.  
  
Dear Sirius,  
  
First things first: As to the why-were-you-running-away-when-you-thought-I- was-after-you question, I had seen your picture on Muggle news only. It was when I boarded the Knight Bus that I found out that you were a wizard, and it wasn't until the thirty-first of August that I found out you were supposed to be trying to kill me.  
  
Do you really think Pettigrew will try to find Voldemort? I suppose it shouldn't be so surprising that he might, but I know I'm still getting over the shock of having had him in my dormitory for three years. Ron is too. He pretended to hate him, but when "Scabbers" faked his own death, he was miserable.  
  
Uncle Vernon practically shoved Aunt Petunia and Dudley out of the room in front of him when I mentioned the squirrels and the bats. It was great. The only other time I've seen them like that was when Hagrid tried to turn Dudley into a pig and gave him a curly tail. I wish you could have been there - it was a sight worth seeing.  
  
Do you need anything? I don't have too much here, but don't hesitate to ask. Ron and Hermione have written a couple times. They're pretty worried about you. Well, I'd better go. Hoping to hear from you soon -  
  
- Harry 


End file.
